


Where Our Hearts are not so Frail

by StarSpray



Series: Wisdom of the Evening Star [19]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash February
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 12:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3447413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpray/pseuds/StarSpray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nellas returns to the Withywindle valley after seeking news in Lindon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Our Hearts are not so Frail

**Author's Note:**

> Title from The Wailin' Jennys "Beautiful Dawn"

Nellas dropped to the ground on light feet, and settled down onto the soft grass, eying the lily-covered pool as she dug out a piece of way bread from her pack. The lilies were in full bloom, and the air was filled with their sweet perfume, mingling with the heady scent of wild roses growing in a tangle nearby. A nightingale trilled somewhere in the willow boughs upstream.

She didn’t have to wait long. Ripples made the lilies dance on the water, and with a soft splash Goldberry the River Daughter appeared, climbing onto the grassy bank, sun-burnished skin shimmering wetly in the bright afternoon. Her smile was as dazzling as sunlight on clear water, and she stretched out on the grass, arms over her head, back arched, and sighed contentedly. “You look weary,” she said with an air of disapproval, cracking open one of her eyes to peer at Nellas.

“I’m glad to be back in the forest,” Nellas replied. The cities being built in Lindon were little more than muddy messes in the early stages of their building, still more encampments than towns. Nellas had bathed in three different streams since, and still wasn’t sure she’d gotten all the mud out of her pores. She broke the piece of way bread in half to share. “Tell me everything I’ve missed.”

Goldberry sat up. “You’ve missed the turnings of the seasons,” she said. “The freezing and the thawing, and the growing and withering, and birds courting and nesting, and the chicks peeping after, and the sun on the water and the wind in the willow boughs, every season both wholly new and just the same as always. But come—tell me of _your_ journeys, star-child.”

Nellas sighed. “Beleriand is gone. Or most of it, anyway—a part of Ossiriand remains. They call it Lindon, now, and the remaining King of the Noldor rules there.”

Goldberry hummed, and tugged on Nellas’ arm until she moved to sit in front of her, so Goldberry could play with her hair. “And did you find what you sought?”

Nellas had ventured westward once it was clear that the world had settled again, and there was no more danger than usual of rock slides or earthquakes in the mountains, hoping to find her family, or at least to learn what had become of them—they’d left Doriath’s woods to seek their kin among the Laegrim after Melian had departed, taking the safety of her Girdle with her. Thus they had escaped the slaughter in Menegroth—but not at Sirion. All but her sister had died, and Hedil had taken ship only days before Nellas had arrived in Lindon. Nellas had not really _expected_ anything else, and so the grief was already a familiar weight on her heart, but it had still stung to learn she’d just barely missed seeing her sister.

Goldberry listened to everything Nellas had to say quietly, never interjecting even to ask a question, her fingers keeping up a steady, soothing rhythm, combing through her hair, and braiding forget-me-nots into her curls, the blossoms brighter than Dwarven gems. When Nellas finished, they sat in silence for a while, Nellas twirling a stalk of grass between her fingers while Goldberry finished a braid.

“I am sorry, star-child,” she said finally, squeezing Nellas’ shoulders gently and pressing a kiss to the back of her neck.

“I met Prince Celeborn while I was there,” Nellas said, plucking a few more pieces of grass to braid together. “And Elrond—little Elwing’s son—he looks so like Lúthien. They offered to secure me a place on the next ship leaving for the West, so I could join Hedil on Tol Eressëa.”

Goldberry hummed. “I see that you refused.”

“I can sail anytime,” Nellas said, shrugging. “The way isn’t shut anymore.”

Goldberry peppered more kisses onto the back of Nellas’ neck, and her shoulders. “You still taste like the Sea,” she said, sounding vaguely disapproving. “And your hair smells like fish and brine.”

“Mm. The Sea clings to you,” Nellas said, wrinkling her nose. Folk said there was music in it, an echo of the Great Music from before creation began—that it echoed louder in the sea than in any other water. But Nellas thought the quieter, gentler music of little rivers and streams far more soothing than the cacophony of crashing waves. It was frightening, and that fear had played a large part in Nellas’ decision to remain in Middle-earth for the foreseeable future.

“I can fix that, I think.” Goldberry kissed her again, and tugged at her clothes. Nellas laughed, and tugged off her boots to follow Goldberry into the lily pool.

She did not emerge until the sun sank westward, and the stars began to shimmer overhead. The evening was warm, and fireflies danced around Nellas as she pulled clean clothes from her pack. A splash behind her heralded Goldberry’s emergence from the pool. “Where are you off to, star-child?”

Nellas turned, squeezing water from her hair. “I saw a patch of wild strawberries earlier,” she said. “I’m going to fetch some.”

When she returned, hands overflowing with little ruby-red berries, Goldberry was sitting on the grassy bank, combing her long golden hair and singing along with the crickets and tree frogs. They feasted together, and Nellas fell asleep to Goldberry singing quiet songs to the stars.

The world was changed, and many fair things were gone forever, but it was easy to set aside griefs and cares in the River Daughter’s realm, where the air smelled of lilies, kisses tasted of strawberries and sweet water, and the wind whispered gently through the willows.


End file.
